


Turn Around

by Shenno



Category: Les Misérables (Movie 1978), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Fix-It, Light Bondage, M/M, Post-Seine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29863845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenno/pseuds/Shenno
Summary: "Turn around," Valjean says then, and Javert does, fully expecting to die, a bit disappointed it would happen like this.[]"Turn around," Javert says then, his voice hollow. He would have appreciated the irony if the darkness were not closing in, threatening to drown him right here, in the gutters, from which, it would seem, he hadn’t actually lifted himself.
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Turn Around

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Спиной ко мне](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580864) by [Shenno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenno/pseuds/Shenno), [WTF Les Miserables 2021 (WTF_Les_Miserables_2021)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Les_Miserables_2021/pseuds/WTF%20Les%20Miserables%202021). 



> So the last time I was rewatching 1978 I appreciated the mirror "turn arounds" between valvert a bit too much. That's it, that's the fic.

"Turn around," Valjean says then, and Javert does, fully expecting to die, a bit disappointed it would happen like this, without even seeing the face of the man he spent years chasing after, but calm and resigned to his fate. Valjean's touch is clinical and precise, and Javert does not tremble, does not fear death.

When Valjean cuts away the ropes instead of cutting him open, the stillness of his body is a snail's shell, suddenly far too tight and almost suffocating.

\---

He trembles later, in the sewers, something in his very core crumbling, like a city too carelessly built to withstand an earthquake.

"Turn around," Javert says then, his voice hollow. He would have appreciated the irony if the darkness were not closing in, threatening to drown him right here, in the gutters, from which, it would seem, he hadn’t actually lifted himself.

Valjean turns around. Some far away part of Javert's brain still hopes he finally, after all these years, managed to make this man afraid of him.

Another part of him hopes Valjean would be relieved when he's gone.

\---

"Please, turn around," Valjean does and Javert helps him take the shirt off over his head. Valjean still clutches it to his chest, anxiously, but what Javert looks at is his back, crisscrossed with many scars.

Javert touches, and Valjean trembles, and Javert falls to his knees, puts his lips to the small of his back, his palms flat against his flanks. In his touch there’s less desire than reverence, less lust than adoration, and slowly, gradually, Valjeans stops trembling, and lets the shirt fall to the floor.

He turns around and takes Javert's hand and takes him to his bed.

\---

"Turn around," Javert asks breathlessly, breaking the kiss, and Valjean disentangles from him, and turns around, bunching the sheets uselessly. Javert moulds himself to his back, a hard hot line of his body, his prick – hotter and harder – against backside – involuntarily small movements of his hips Valjean cannot help but push against. Javert holds him close, hand against his chest and creeping lower, under the hem of Valjean's nightshirt, against the soft stomach and then, finally, where Valjean wants it the most. Javert's movements are still unpracticed, a bit too rough, a bit too brusque, but Valjean gasps all the same, pushes into his hand, pushes against Javert's body, clutches backwards blindly at his thigh, Javert panting in his ear.

As his teeth gently press at Valjean's shoulder, he trembles and loses himself.

\---

"Are you sure you want this?"

"It was me who suggested it," replies Javert impatiently. Instead of making Valjean flinch, his sharp tone now just makes the warmth in his eyes even more unbearable.

"Then turn around," the calm authority in Valjean's voice goes straight to Javert's prick and he obeys unthinkingly. Valjean pushes him to the wall, still far more gently than Javert would've liked, but there's nothing clinical in his touch, and his fingers fumble when he puts the rope against Javert's wrist. Still, he does manage to tie it, rope chafing at his skin just as it did at the barricades but so unlike it at the same time, and Javert lets out a low moan, and then another, far more mortifying, when Valjean uses his weight to press Javert into the wall, his smaller but broader frame a heavy weight Javert couldn't and doesn't want to push off.

"Is this what you want," Valjean's voice lower and rougher, and Javert, ever the collector of all things Valjean, has learned to read him good enough by now to know he wants it as well.

"Please," he says, and Valjean starts unfastening his trousers.

"Please," Javert bares his throat, lost in sensation, Valjean's left hand in his hair, his right, oil-slicked, brushing along his cleft, a finger pushing into him, Javert offering himself far too readily but too far gone to care.

"Jean," as Valjean pushes into him with a low groan, tied hands at an awkward angle between them, but still so very satisfying, and then there's no more talking for a while.

"Turn around," Valjean whispers, when they are both spent, panting heavily, the wall supporting both of their weights, and Javert does, hands still behind his back, and kisses Valjean gratefully, lips and tongues hot against each other.

He trembles with silent, unpracticed laughter, sitting on their shared bed, while Valjean, awkward and apologetic, shirt and trousers disheveled, goes to the kitchen to fetch a knife for the rope.


End file.
